Back from the Dead Yo Ho Yo Ho
by Runt Thunderbelch
Summary: Tia Dalma makes her first attempt to rescue Captain Jack Sparrow from Davy Jones' Locker.  This story takes place between the final two scenes of Dead Man's Chest, after the encounter with the kraken but before the commiserating at Tia Dalma's hut.
1. Tales of Woe, Tales of Treasure

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

Back from the Dead Yo Ho Yo Ho

By

Runt Thunderbelch

Chapter 1: Tales of Woe, Tales of Treasure

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Was that a child screaming? Captain Jack Sparrow struggled to get his kohl-lined eyelids open. He felt the quarterdeck of the _Black Pearl_ beneath his spine and saw the endless blue sky above him. He hated this blue sky—it with no sun, no clouds, no wind, no night, just endless, endless, endless blue.

He clambered to his feet. Now, two more children were also shouting protests. Three children? Aboard his ship? That was bloody impossible! He launched himself staggering across the quarterdeck and down to the main deck. As he ambled along, he thought better of it. He was after all Captain Jack Sparrow. He must always be gracious.

Gunners Mate Jack Sparrow was holding a struggling mulatto girl. Purser Jack Sparrow was holding a Eurasian lad, who was also fighting. Able Seaman Jack Sparrow was holding what appeared to be a Euro-Incan girl. All three children seemed to be exactly the same age, which was estimated by Captain Jack Sparrow to be about, that is approximately, oh, somewhere around, frankly he had no idea. He'd avoided children whenever possible and knew next to nothing about them.

"Good morning," he began. "Er, good afternoon, er, good day. Yes. Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_. I am Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service."

The struggling mulatto girl shouted, "Make these ruffians let us go!"

"I can do that." He closed his eyes and concentrated very hard. He found that, when he did this, he could somewhat regain his sanity. When he opened his eyes again, his delusional crew had vanished back into the nothingness from where his deranged mind had summoned them. "Better?"

The three children looked around as if they expected the crew to suddenly reappear. "Yes, thank you."

"You are very welcome!" He glanced around at the desert that stretched away in all directions. "The natural question to ask at this point is: how did you come to be aboard my ship?"

"Our mothers sent us here to find you."

"Did they now?"

"You don't believe us?"

Sparrow waved his arms expansively. "Look about you! I'm the captain of a ship which is stranded in the middle of a desert. My crew is imaginary. The sky has no sun. The days, er, the day is an endless nightmare of never-ending boredom. At this point, I'd believe just about anything."

"Our mothers need your help. If you can help them to get home, each of their families will pay you a reward greater than you can imagine!"

"I dunno. I can imagine quite a lot."

"We are not talking about 'a lot,'" interrupted the boy. "We are talking about amounts of money far in excess of that!"

"I like what you're saying."

The mulatto girl shot the Eurasian boy a sharp glance and took back the conversation. "My mother is a princess of the royal family of the Mali Empire. She grew up in the palace in Timbuktu. One day while crossing the desert, her caravan was attacked by slavers. She and all who survived were taken prisoner. When she saw the cruelty of the slavers, she didn't want them to get the huge random which she knew her family would gladly pay. So she concealed who she was. She was put aboard a slave ship bound for the Americas, but when it entered Caribbean waters, it was captured by pirates. The pirates took the slaves to Tortuga, where she was sold to a bordello. There, she has been forced to work ever since."

The Eurasian boy shouldered his way forward. "My mother is from the legendary city of Shangri-la, which is in the mountains at the Roof of the World. Foreigner interlopers are pressing in, threatening us, the French and English from India in the south, the Chinese coming down from the north. My mother and her husband were sent with chests of gems to purchase guns and to find allies in the West, so that these interlopers can be driven back across our borders. They traveled first to Manila, then across the Pacific to Acapulco, across Mexico and onto a ship bound for Spain. But it too was taken by pirates. My mother's husband was killed in the fighting. My mother was taken to Tortuga and was sold to the same bordello. –Your turn."

The third child stepped forward, struggling with shyness. "My family is Incan," she began. "When Pizarro conquered my nation, my ancestors carried all the gold they could to our last remaining city, on the east side of the Andes. The Spanish heard legends of the lost city of El Dorado, but they never found us. Many, many years passed and we learned that we were located between two great European empires, the Spanish in the west and the Portuguese in the east. We thought if we could get the Portuguese to help us, maybe we could take our nation back from the Spanish. So my mother and a score of others undertook a perilous journey down the greatest river in the world. It flows from the Andes all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. Only three people survived the journey. But the King of Portugal is not in the Americans. He is in Europe. So the three survivors obtained passage on a ship bound for Lisbon. However, it was captured by a pirate ship coming from Madagascar and heading for Tortuga. My mother was sold to the same bordello."

Captain Jack Sparrow nodded. "I see a pattern developing here," he said.

The mulatto princess continued the story. "Then one night, into this wretched place came a very drunk Captain Jack Sparrow. He bragged about how he was going to have every girl in the bordello. And he did too. He still holds the house record. Every girl was visited by him that night. And, lo and behold, three of them became pregnant: my mother, his mother and her mother." The girl smiled with feigned sweetness. "Captain Jack Sparrow, you are our father."

The pirate remembered that night, vaguely, mostly he remember how his head felt the next morning. Strange, it didn't seem all that long ago. But how could one measure time in a place which had no sun and where night never fell, a place where one day and all eternity were the same thing? "So you think I'm the one who should come, rescue your mothers and take them back home? Charming, love. But how? I seem to be stuck here."

A new voice said, "You just leave dat to me, Captain Jack Sparrow." He turned to see Tia Dalma gliding across the deck. As always, her clothes looked like rat-eaten layers taken from a trunk in the attic, and the ebony cornrows in her hair were dirty, unkempt and hung down like ancient seaweed. Her skin was dark, with a line of tattooed dots running across the tops of her cheeks. Her tattooed lips pulled back into a rectus grin, showing blackened teeth.


	2. The Séance

Chapter 2: The Séance

"I do have some questions," stated the pirate captain. "First, does anyone have any rum? Second, where on earth am I? Third, where is my crew-my real crew, not these weird mirror images of me that have been haunting my ship? Fourth, where are you folks all coming from? I'm in the middle of the desert—I should be able to see you coming from miles away!"

"Hush," purred Tia Dalma. "You is dead, Captain Jack Sparrow, and you is not dead. You is in dat limbo land between de world of de living and de world beyond. You is in Davy Jones Locker."

"Oh." Kohl-lined eyes darted around. "That explains a lot. -What about the rum?"

"Your crew," she crooned, "is alive and well. You saved dem by giving yourself to de kraken."  
Those last moments suddenly flooded into his mind. He remembered now, his supernatural calm when he should have been terrified, the reeking breath as he stepped into the fang-lined maw of the gigantic beastie and, oh yes, the triumph of finding his hat. "You haven't mentioned the rum."

"We have no rum," Tia Dalma said. "We came here wit' not'ing but de clothes on our backs."

"Horrific news indeed. A man needs a tot of rum just to keep himself alive," he glanced around, "or dead as it were. Er, you do have a way of getting us back?"

"Don't you fret about Tia Dalma," said Tia Dalma. "I have powers beyond anyt'ing you can understand."

"That's very comforting, because I have been understanding next to nothing lately."

"We need to make a séance."

Captain Jack Sparrow held up a finger. "Isn't that for talking to the dead? And aren't I the one who's dead. So instead of a séance, why not just say, 'Good morning, Captain. Lovely morning, isn't it? Look, what I found, a lovely bottle of rum—fancy a drink?'"

The mulatto princess piped in. "Sit down and shut up. We need to sit in a circle, so everybody, sit down."

"I am," he reminded her sternly, "Captain Jack Sparrow."

"And I'm a royal princess. Princess outranks sea captain."

He put his kohl-lined eyes just inches from hers. "Not aboard my ship, darlin'."

"De chile is right. So sit down, captain. Or will you argue wit' me too?"

He looked up into her fierce eyes, which were blacker than voodoo magic. "I shall sit," he announced.

They all sat.

"Hands flat," Tia Dalma directed. "Right palm up; left palm down. Wit' your fingers, touch the fingers of de person on either side of you, but do not grasp their hands. Just fingers to fingers."

They did as she instructed, forming a ring of people.

"Oh, one t'ing I forgot to ask," said Tia Dalma, almost as an afterthought. Are you allergic to lightning?"

"Am I what?"

An electrical blast ripped around the circle, from fingers to fingers, body to body. Captain Jack Sparrow was hurled backwards into unconsciousness.


	3. The Bordello

Chapter 3: The Bordello

When he awoke, he found himself in complete and utter darkness. All was void and stygian blackness.

Tia Dalma's voice asked, "How are you feeling?"

Captain Jack Sparrow tried to blink away the nothingness, but to no avail. "I must tell you," he muttered, "that I appear to be just a little bit blind."

His hands went to the bandana on his head, searching through the affixed ornaments until he found the piece of eight. So contrary to his fears, Tia Dalma had not stolen it from him while he was unconscious. Then again, she couldn't, could she? He had to give it to her voluntarily. That was how things worked.

There was a scratching sound and a flare of light, no bigger than a thumb. It floated through the air until it illuminated an oil lantern, which it lit. As the wick caught, the glow of the light swelled and filled a tiny room. Four women were seated on the floor, looking at him.

"Is dat betta'?"

He exhaled. As relief flowed into him, he realized he knew the three pretty women sitting of the floor next to Tia Dalma. "Good evening, Gbara, Li-Lei, Aymara." He thought knew the room too. "I'm back in Tortuga?"

"Oh yes."

"How?"

"Oh, I don't t'ink you want to know dat. Just be glad dat you are here."

"What happened to the wee ones?"

"De children? Why, dey are here too."

When Chandra's had went protectively to her belly, the pirate suddenly knew what Tia Dalma was hinting at.

"You was in de land of half living, half not living," she explained. "So we could not send fully living people in dere after you. We needed dose who were only half alive. De babies were our only choice."

Captain Jack Sparrow looked at the three slightly pregnant ladies. Then leaned back on his elbows and turned his attention to the voodoo priestess. "But you were there too."

"Ah yes, but I am Tia Dalma. I go where I want. I do what I want to do. For me, dere are no rules."

"So why didn't you come alone?"

"I needed de children to find dere faht'er."

The door to the room crashed open, and Galloway, one of the bordello's musclemen, strode in. "You three, downstairs now! And you, Captain Jack Sparrow, here you sit bold as brass, but you failed to leave any money downstairs. Come in through the window, did ya? So!" His beefy fists grabbed the pirate by the collar and the seat of his pants; he hoisted his captive up and hurled him back out the window he hadn't come in by.

The pirate flew through the night air and crashed into a party of seamen heading for the front entrance of the bordello. They all went sprawling in the mud, amidst flailing arms, cries of alarm and some spectacular cursing.

"Sparrow! Is ruddy Captain Jack Sparrow! Get him!"

Powerful hands grabbed for him, but the pirate squirmed loose and ran to the only place he could-back into the bordello.

Whitfield was the muscleman at the front door when Captain Sparrow came racing by and, without paying, dashed straight into the bar. Whitfield let out a bellow of rage, which alerting two more men, who went after the fleeing pirate.

The seamen from outside were also crowding in after him, but were still sober enough to know they had to pay Whitfield or face serious consequences. They yanked out pieces of eight, shoved them at him and charged for the bar.

There was only one way into the bar and, at the moment, it was crammed with men filled with murderous intent. Captain Jack Sparrow knew he was trapped. So he spun a passing seaman around and punched him in the face just as hard as he could.

The hapless fellow flew backwards, crashing into a table full of drunken gamblers. The table legs collapsed, and drinks, doubloons, and playing cards crashed to the floor. The gamblers picked the groggy seaman up, and someone punched him hard again.

The seamen had friends. They leapt to their feet and attacked the gamblers. Suddenly the whole room was awash in flying fists, kicking boots, elbows bring thrown, eyes being gouged, groins being kneed, and noses being broken.

Sparrow leaped over the bar, grabbed a bottle of rum as he did so, and crashed down into relative safety and concealment behind the bar. He popped open the bottle of rum and took a giant swig.

The bartender used the pirate's head for a stepping stone as he scrambled over the bar to join the fray. In retribution, Sparrow finished off the bottle of rum and threw it aside. Then he scurried on hands and knees behind the bar back towards the doorway.

A midget flew over the bar and crashed down in front of him. The little man shook his head to clear it. "Captain! I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

"I've been dead, mate." He crawled on passed the midget.

"Really? Well, you look terrific!"

Sparrow he spotted the bartender's cashbox. He took it in one hand, a full bottle of rum in the other, rose to a low crouch, and hurried for the entrance.

As he exited the bar, he came across Whitfield, who had some poor blighter pinned up against the wall and was punching him repeatedly in the face. Sparrow couldn't squeeze by Whitfield without being seen, so he turned and went the only other way, up the staircase.

Galloway and the three women were coming down the stairs. Galloway spotted him, growled, and reached out to grab him.

Sparrow hit the muscleman in the side of the head with the full bottle of rum, which shattered.

Galloway didn't blink. He seized Sparrow and began dragging him back up the stairs.

"Run!" screamed the pirate at the three women. "Run!" He bashed Galloway in the other side of his head with the cashbox, which flew open, spilling out a riot of doubloons.

The muscleman didn't care. He wrestled the pirate back into the room where this whole thing started and, for the second time, hurled him out of the window he hadn't come in by.


	4. Tortuga

Chapter 4: Tortuga

Lieutenant LePetit hurried into the office of the governor of Tortuga. "Captain Jack Sparrow is back in town!" he reported. "He's down on "L'Avenue d'Eros, wreaking havoc!"

"Sparrow!" roared the governor. "Take a company of . . ."

The governor's door burst open, Captain Jack Sparrow raced through the room and dove out the window.

"Take a company of men . . ."

The door burst open again. Three ladies of easy virtue raced through the room and leaped out the window after Sparrow.

"Take a company of men . . ."

The door burst open again. A pair of musclemen from one of the most infamous bordellos down on L'Avenue d'Eros raced across the room. They were followed by a dozen or more furious and drunken seamen. All leaped out the window after Sparrow and the women.

"Take a company of men," the governor began, pausing for someone else to come bursting into his office. When nothing happened, he began again. "Take a company of men . . ."

The governor's door burst open. A midget raced into the room. He stopped at the governor's desk long enough to steal a cigar, and then he tipped his three-cornered hat to the governor and dove out the window.

Captain Jack Sparrow fled down towards the docks. A ship! A ship! He had to get aboard a ship and out to sea!

He ran passed the _Caribbean Queen_, pulled up on the beach for careening. He ran passed the _Thunderer,_ shot to pieces during its last encounter with one of Lord Beckett's pirate hunters (but you should see the other guy). He ran passed the _Last Trump_, de-masted during a tropical storm. He ran passed the _Victorious Vamp_, listing so badly that sea water washed over her port railing. He ran passed _Seahorse_, her stern little more than charcoal. He ran passed the top of the mast of a ship which had sunk right here at anchorage. The last ship on the wharfs was a tiny brigantine, which looked as if it were just getting ready to set sail. Captain Jack Sparrow leaped aboard.

"Avast there!" echoed a voice out of the night.

"Ahoy. I've come to sign on aboard your ship."

A slender and dashing captain was descending from the quarterdeck down to the main deck, where Sparrow was standing.

The women clattered down the dock after the pirate. "Wait for us! Wait for us!" They scrambled aboard after him.

The captain cocked a handsome eyebrow. "And you brought ladies with you," he observed.

Sparrow shrugged. "It's the least I could do. These beauties are Gbara, Li-Lei, and Aymara. Smile for the captain, ladies. I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."

"Charmed," the captain cooed at the women as he smiled with glistening white teeth. "People call me Pretty Boy Roy Maloy."

Sparrow frowned. "And you let them?"

"Captain of the _Sea Feather._"

"Oh, what a cute little boat," gushed Aymara.

"Oh, what a cute little captain," leered Gbara.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, ladies." Pretty Boy Roy shouted orders to cast off and hoist sail. The small ship swung away from the dock and headed through the bay towards the open sea. Then: "Blythers!"

A midshipmen came running up. "Aye, sir?"

"Blythers, take these ladies below and put them in Mister Packman's cabin."

"It'll be a bit crowded, won't it, sir?"

Pretty Boy Roy growled, "Move Mister Packman's things into the wardroom, and then tell Mr. Grove that this gentleman will be bunking with him in his cabin."

"Yes sir!"

"Now sir," said the captain turning back to Sparrow. "Just what is it that you do?"  
The pirate shrugged. "Pretty much anything that needs done aboard a ship. I'm pretty good at navigation—"

"Fine! Then you shall be our navigator!"

"You put out to sea without a navigator?"

"Of course. Something always turns up."

"No it doesn't," reply Sparrow. "Experienced navigators don't just turn up out of thin air."

"You did."

Sparrow hesitated. "That doesn't mean you're right."

"And your name?"

"Sparrow. Capt-uh-Navigator Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, the famous pirate!"

"Well, technically I ain't the captain. You are."

"Oh pish posh, man! It's great to have you on board! Why, with the danger we're sailing into, we need all the experienced hands we can get!"

"Danger? Um, just what kind of danger?"

Pretty Boy Roy laughed merrily. "Well, what is the greatest danger in all the world to us pirates?"

"That's easy," replied Sparrow. "The kraken."

"Ha! Don't be ridiculous! The kraken is a mythological beast. It doesn't really exist."

"It does exist. I've seen it. In fact, the last time I saw it, it ate me."

"Ha! If it ate you, you'd be dead!"

Sparrow shrugged. "I was dead. -But I got better."

"No, my friend," said Pretty Boy Roy throwing an amiable arm over Sparrow's shoulder, "the greatest danger to us pirates is Lord Cutler Beckett, the new Governor of Port Royal. He's cunning, ruthless, and fanatically anti-pirate. His ships are systematically wiping us from the surface of the ocean."

Sparrow nodded. "So we stay as far away from Port Royal as possible. May I suggest we sail northwest to, say, Nassau?"

"No, we are going to Port Royal. We are going to search out Lord Cutler Beckett. And we are going to kill him."

"We are going to do no such thing!" gasped Sparrow. "The harbor of Port Royal is home to the most powerful fleet in the Caribbean. The city of Port Royal is garrisoned with hundreds of professional soldiers. The governor's palace is an impregnable fortress. To even think of assassinating the Governor is an act of suicide!  
"Yes!" exulted Pretty Boy Roy. "That's what makes it fun!"


	5. Aboard the Sea Feather

Chapter 5: Aboard the _Sea Feather_

"We're in the hands of a madman," Navigator Jack Sparrow gravely informed Gbara, Li-Lei, and Aymara as they sat crammed inside Mr. Packman's tiny cabin in the heat of the sweltering night. "This ship is no bigger than a postage stamp, yet he's planning to single-handedly attack one of the most powerful fortresses in the Caribbean. It's lunacy, sheer lunacy!"

"Why don't you say what's really bothering you?" asked Gbara.

"That _is_ what's bothering me!"

"You haven't said one word about that fact that, in just a few months, you'll be the father of three children."

"Oh that." Sparrow made a face. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell us what you feel."

His sad, lost, kohl-lined eyes looked at her. "What am I supposed to feel?"

"I don't know. Perhaps pride? Panic? Accomplishment? Confusion? Fulfillment? Unworthiness? Elation? Maybe you are even filled with a growing sense of responsibility?"

"Yes, all those things," he replied. "Except maybe not the last one. I'm not really the responsible type."

"Not yet you aren't."

"Look," he said, perhaps a little sharper than he meant to. "I got you out of the bordello, didn't I? I got you out of Tortuga. I got you aboard a ship. We're sailing towards your homes in Timbuktu, or Shangri-la, or El Dorado, or whatever—despite the fact that none of those cities is anywhere near a seaport. I'll get you there. I'll get you back to your families. There's a little problem of how I'll do it exactly, but I'll get you there. Because me lovelies, there's one thing you must always remember; there's one thing you can always count on. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

He stood, smashed his skull into the low overhead, winced in pain, and then strode majestically out of the cabin, bumping his head on the door jamb as he left.

He came out onto the deck into the breath-taking beauty of pre-dawn twilight. The eastern sky glowed pink and yellow and golden and scarlet and orange as the auroral harbinger of the Apollo. In the west, the sky was still cloaked in last night's indigo. A silver crescent sliver of moon fled towards the far horizon.

White sails (seemingly pink in the early morning light) billowed with captured wind. Overhead, seagulls mewed. Alongside, dolphins raced. The ocean purred and hissed as the bounding bow of the _Sea Feather_ cleaved it in two.

This was just about as perfect as life could get, as long as you ignored the fact that they were all sailing towards a very bloody and certain doom.

Yes, there was that. Now, what was he to do about it?

"Oh aye, laddies!" hissed Sparrow confidentially to the men as they took their breakfasts. "I've been to Port Royal, I have. Locked up, I was, in the fortress's dungeon, awaiting hanging for piracy. Aye, I escaped, as you can plainly see. And in the process of escaping, I learned more about the fortress's layout and its defenses than any pirate living or dead. I know what you're going up against."

The men were flattered by his attention. It was rare that any officer would deign to eat with the crew. But they were also anxious about the upcoming fight.

"Folks say," ventured one cautiously, "that the fortress is heavily manned."

"Aye it is. Perhaps second only to Panama. You can't swing a cat in Port Royal without hitting a soldier."

"They say the walls are high and thick."

Sparrow nodded. "True, true. Only the Havana fortress is better built. Cannon shot from this vessel will bounce off its wall like they were nothing more than spit wads. Oh yes, I'll be glad I'm staying with the ship."

"You ain't coming with us?"

"Me? No! I'll be commanding the handful of men that guard the ship. There ain't enough gold in the world to coax me back into that city."

"But you're Captain Jack Sparrow! You're a legend!"

"A living legend," he pointed out. "And I intend to stay that way." He glanced around at the terrified eyes of the crew. "Oh, don't be like that. Pretty Boy Roy Maloy is a fine captain. I'm sure he'll bring some of you back alive. Why, I'll give you odds that at least fifteen percent of you will make it back here. _At least_ fifteen percent. And I'll be aboard ship waiting to welcome the survivors. I look forward to it. There'll be an extra tot of rum for anyone who survives. Depending on how many men we lose, you may even get two tots.

"Now, if that doesn't buck up your spirits, I don't know what will."

Fear swept through the crew like fire sweeps through a ship's sails.

Later that morning, Midshipman Blythers crept up behind Sparrow and whispered into his ear. "Some of the men have been talking," he said, "about the upcoming battle. They'd much rather have you in command than ol' Pretty Boy. If you're interested, follow me below."

"The captain will be the one in command."

"That's what we're talking about," replied Blythers, "Captain Jack Sparrow."

Sparrow liked the sound of that name.

The lad turned and strolled nonchalantly across the deck and down a hatchway. Sparrow turned, strolled nonchalantly across the deck, and descended down the same hatchway. The midshipman made his way along a narrow passageway and entered a cabin. Sparrow made his way along the same narrow passageway and entered the very same cabin.

Pretty Boy Roy Maloy was seated at a table facing the door. A pair of cock pistols was on the table in front of him, and armed men flanked him on either side.

"Jack Sparrow," he growled. "You are under arrest for making a mutiny. You have been found guilty. The sentence is death, to be carried out forthwith."

Sparrow blinked and said, "Down with capital punishment."


	6. Waiting for the Hangman

Chapter 6: Waiting for the Hangman

Pretty Boy Roy Maloy and Blythers left to prepare for the hanging. But the captain had Sparrow disarmed and his wrists tied behind his back. Two men were posted just outside the door, and two more were posted in the room with Sparrow himself. The two in the room settled into chairs and, to Sparrow's surprise, promptly fell asleep.

Now was his chance to escape. He looked around the windowless room with its locked door. Not much of a chance.

"Captain Jack Sparrow."

He spun around and found himself looking into the dark, fathomless eyes of Tia Dalma. She showed her blackened teeth. A lesser man would have been surprised to see her.

"I need de coin, Jack."

"Er, which coin is that?"

She pointed to the piece of eight, which was one of the many ornaments which dangled from his bandana. "You know which coin. You will not need it where you're going."

"Then it looks like you'll just have to save me."

"Jack, you know I can't take the coin from you. You know you must give it to me freely."

"Then save me! Save me, and I'll give you the coin."

She blinked. "Truly?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Her dark eyes swam as she searched for an answer. "Too much," she moaned. "Too much is already set into motion. Dey really want to hang you, Jack Sparrow."

"Don't let them!"

"If dey hang you, dere will be no Davy Jones Locker for you. You will go straight to Hell, and I cannot get to you dere."

"Don't let them hang me!"

"But if you die at sea, and not dancing in de air—"

"I think you're missing the point, love."

"If you can get back to Davy Jones Locker, den—"

"Another séance!" Sparrow suddenly realized what she was getting at. She could again yank him back out of that horrible limbo world.

Tia Dalma suddenly deflated. "No. I have lost my guides. Your children are heading back to de lands of dere ancestors, to Timbuktu, to Shangri-la, to El Dorado. You have set t'ings in motion, Jack, dat cannot be changed. But your children will get home. You should be proud of dat."

"In a few moments, I will be dead. Maybe we should work on that problem first, huh?"

He could see her mind working, turning over possibilities, discarding some, modifying others. She looked deep into his eyes. "How much does your crew love you?"

"Love me? They don't love me, they hate me. Everybody hates me."

"And de young Turner boy? Will he risk his life for you?"

"Nope. Hates me."

"And Elizabeth Swan?"

"Now, she loves me! Oh wait. She did kill me. That's not a good sign, is it?"

"Would dey be willing to sail to de End of de World for you?"

Captain Jack Sparrow violently shook his head. "Not in a million years. They wouldn't cross the street to spit on me."

"I wonder."

A key rattled in the door lock. Sparrow turned to see Blythers coming into the room. Sparrow's two guards had awoken and were scrambling to their feet.

Tia Dalma had vanished.

The midshipman looked sternly at Sparrow. "It's time."


	7. The Execution of Captain Jack Sparrow

Chapter 7: The Execution of Captain Jack Sparrow

Jack Sparrow was being herded down the corridor like a pig going to slaughter. "So, I'm to be hung then?"

Blythers replied tightlipped, "That's the standard punishment for making a mutiny."

Sparrow nodded. "Good."

Blythers proceeded down the corridor, started up the steps of the ladder, but then suddenly stopped. He turned back. "Why 'good'?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything."

The midshipman took another step before he turned back again. "Why 'good'?"

"It's a trifle. Don't even worry your mind about it."

The young man fixed himself to the ladder. "Why 'good'?"

"Well, it's a bit of a tale." When Blythers continued to glare, Sparrow continued, "Do you know a woman named Tia Dalma?"

"I've heard of her. I've never met her. A voodoo witch, isn't she?"

"Oh, some say that, yes. She once, uh, she put a curse on me. Or maybe it was a blessing. No, a curse. Curse/blessing, it's all the same thing. It seems that, if I'm hung while on board a ship, I will be transformed into an air spirit, and I'll be able to fill the ship's sails and take her anywhere I want to go."

"You're joking."

"Mister Blythers, please! This is not a situation which calls for levity. I am walking, sir, to my doom."

"Oh. Sorry," the youth stammered. "It's just the situation you described is a little hard to believe."

"My point precisely," agreed Sparrow. "It's superstition pure and simple. I'm sorry I mentioned it."

The midshipman started up the ladder, turned and looked again at Captain Jack Sparrow, and then led the way above. Once there, he proceeded immediately over to Pretty Boy Roy Maloy and whispered something into the captain's ear.

Sparrow was momentarily distracted when he spied a noose hanging from a yardarm. The crew had been mustered to witness punishment. When he looked back, Pretty Boy had gone white as a sheet.

"Belay that!" the captain suddenly bellowed. "Get that line down from there!" Pretty Boy stormed over to Sparrow. "Give that line to me! Give it here, I say!"

The men who'd been pulling down the noose hurried to give it to their captain.

"Free his wrists!"

"Sir?"

"You heard me! Cut his bindings!"

A knife was produced, and its wielder began sawing madly at the rope around Sparrow's wrists.

Jack Sparrow couldn't believe it. His eyes went wide in amazement. "You're setting me free?"

When the bindings fell away, Pretty Boy flipped the noose over one of Sparrow's newly freed wrists and tightened is so firmly that it bit into the flesh. "Hardly," he hissed to his captive, and then he bellowed, "Keelhaul this man!"

Captain Jack Sparrow shrieked with terror. As a youth, he'd seen what had happened to men who'd been dragged underneath the barnacle-encrusted hull of a ship. If the ordeal didn't drown them outright, they emerged from the back of the ship as a bloody mass of shredded meat. He leaped back, jerking at the rope in a horrified frenzy.

The crew came running with another line. Some men grabbed him while others struggled to tie it around his free wrist.

"God no!" screamed Sparrow. "Anything but that! The plank! The plank! I'll walk the plank!"

One of the lines was looped under the bowsprit, so when the ropes were pulled, he'd be dragged passed the bowsprit and not onto it. Other crew members were ordered to man the lines.

Sparrow was leaping, jerking, fighting to get free. A dozen men struggled to control him, but fear had taken him. He was no longer human. Civilization was forgotten. He fought as if he were a wild animal, jumping, biting, growling, squirming, kicking, hissing, spitting, and frothing at the mouth. He had the strength of ten men, but even so, he was outnumbered.

Pretty Boy roared, "Pull those lines, me hearties! Heave!"

The lines tightened, and Sparrow was dragged forward. He fought to keep his feet under him, to stop his forward progress. He was being cowardly, he knew, but any man would do what he was doing, any man!

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been doused over his brain. He was not "any man." Never "any man." He was, after all, Captain Jack Sparrow! And Captain Jack Sparrow had always survived by doing just the opposite of what was expected.

A furious, cold determination seized him. And then he ran forward and leaped headfirst off the bow of the ship.

The crystal clear waters of the Caribbean welcomed him. Fish of a thousand different colors and shapes fled from his sudden splash but then wandered back curious.

For a moment, the lines holding him were limp. No one had dreamed he'd be crazy enough to leap overboard. And in their moment of hesitation and surprise, Sparrow knew he had to find his salvation.

He upended himself.

Then the lines tightened, and he was pulled inexorably towards the hull of the ship. But he was upside down now, so when he hit the razor-sharp barnacles, he hit them, not with his own flesh, but with the soles of his boots.

The lines on his wrists pulled him towards the stern of the ship. The force of the sea as the ship sped along pushed him towards the stern of the ship. So he ran along the hull back towards the stern of the ship. He was upside down, true, but he was running.

The barnacles bit into his boot leather, nearly tripping him. The lines on either side kept catching on barnacles and jerking him first to one side, then the other. It was very hard to keep his balance, but he knew he had to take the punishment with his boots. He had to keep his flesh away from the jagged barnacles. This was the only skin he had; he could always steal another pair of boots.

Suddenly, one of the lines parted, severed by the millions of knifelike barnacles. He was pulled to one side, stumbling, falling upwards, bobbing to the surface. The speed of the ship dragged him through the sea for a few seconds, but then the second line snapped as well. And he slowly came to a halt.

He expected the _Sea Feather_ to come about, to come back, to pick him up, and to execute him again. But it never changed course. It sails steadily on towards Port Royal.

"Good luck, mates," murmured Captain Jack Sparrow as he treaded water. They would need it.

The weight of his water-logged woolen coat began to pull him down, and so he shucked it, letting it swirl away down into the sea. For the moment, he was safe. Sure, there may not be any land in sight, but for the moment, he was safe.

Then he heard a swirl of water behind him. Not a wave breaking; he knew what that sounded like. No, a swirl. Like something big moving through the water. Something big, and most likely carnivorous.

"Please don't let it be a shark," he prayed. "Please, please, please. No shark, no shark, no shark." He slowly turned around in the water.

Towering above him, a gigantic tentacle had emerged out of the sea. It was as high as a hill, green and stinky. The kraken had found him again.

"Oh hello, my lovely," cooed Captain Jack Sparrow. "Did you miss me?"

The End


End file.
